Where The Road Leads
by IMTheresa
Summary: This starts a year or so after the finale. Sam is trying to have a normal life, but he may have seen and done too much for that to happen. He's back in school with Dean's blessing and encouragement, but with his brother living in Portland, his life is em
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I have to be honest. I had a plan for this story but it's gone slightly off course. I blame Sam because he didn't want to go where I wanted him to go. I'm posting before I finish it and I'd love to know what you think so far. _

_Kelli is back from her trip. I appreciate her help with this and with everything else in my life._

**Chapter 1**

Sam jerked awake, breathing hard and sweating. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was nearly four in the morning. Sighing, he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He kept the light off as he splashed cold water on his face; he didn't want to see his gaunt skin or the dark circles under his eyes. It reminded him too much of before and at night it was just too much to handle.

He remembered what it was like right after he went back on the road with Dean. Their father was missing and Jessica was dead; killed by the same demon that had killed his mother when he was a baby. The dreams came every night. He relived the nightmare of her death every time he closed his eyes, every time he fell asleep. He tried to stay awake but that only lasted so long because eventually the exhaustion overcame him. Dean did what he could to be supportive, but this wasn't like when they were kids. There was nothing Dean could do to make Sam feel better and that was completely unfamiliar territory to the big brother. Then there were the visions…

But all that was in the past. They reunited with their father and, after losing some of their best friends, managed to kill the demon that had destroyed their childhoods. It surprised Sam that Dean insisted he go back to school almost as soon as the last battle had been fought, before the injuries had even started to heal. Sam resisted for a while, unwilling to leave Dean so soon after their father died, but Dean convinced him it was the right thing to do. Maybe it had been the easiest thing to do instead.

Sam did well in school now but he didn't have the same passion for it that he had before. He missed his brother and sometimes even missed being on the road. He liked not feeling like he was being chased by monsters or would find evil around every corner but he didn't get the satisfaction from his classes that he had gotten before. But, unlike the first time Sam went to college, the brothers kept in touch. Dean was interested in his brother's grades, his classes, and the people he associated with. They talked several times a week, sometimes more than once a day. He never knew for sure where Dean was or what he was doing but his brother assured him he was fine. Sam wasn't quite sure he believed that but he desperately needed to believe it.

He told Dean that he had friends but in truth he didn't really feel connected to anyone in particular. He was still afraid to get too close to people because of everything he had seen and done. But then there was Jessica; he was still too attached to her. The guilt he felt for her death was still with him, still overwhelming sometimes. He knew he had to get past it but he didn't know how. He spent two years on the road with Dean. His brother always insisted what happened to Jessica wasn't his fault but Sam never really believed it. He figured out how to bury the guilt deep inside but he never let go of the feeling that her death was his fault.

Just like his mother's death.

Things started to change a week ago. Although he couldn't remember them, he knew he was waking up from nightmares again. He'd spoken to his brother several times since he realized what was happening but he chose not to mention it. When Dean commented that he sounded tired, Sam would say it was because he'd stayed up too late studying. He told his few acquaintances the same thing.

Sam sat outside the coffee shop near his apartment, the textbook for his first class open on the table in front of him. His mind wasn't on the book, though. He absently took a sip of the large coffee, his eyes scanning the small number of people walking along the street at the early hour. He didn't really see any of them, though, because he was thinking about the dreams he couldn't remember. Before, his visions were connected to the demon that killed his mother and Jessica. If these dreams were precursors to new visions, what did that mean?

He floated through the rest of the week, avoiding the various social activities he'd been invited to. By the time Friday came around he was lucky to get through all his classes and make it back to his apartment without falling asleep. He tossed his backpack aside when he walked in the door and was sleeping almost before he collapsed onto the bed.

"_Sam."_

_He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. Jessica was standing just inside the living room wearing a long light blue gown he'd not seen before._

"_That's a little formal for a night at home." he grinned._

"_Very funny. This is the dress Mom and I got for the party at the country club." she turned around. "What do you think?"_

_Sam moved across the room and put his arms around her. "You look beautiful."_

"_I got you a new tie; it compliments the dress and will look perfect with your suit."_

_Sam pulled away. "You know I don't feel comfortable at the country club."_

"_I know." she said gently. "But it's my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. You'll come, won't you?"_

_Sam smiled at her. "You know I can't turn you down."_

_Jessica grinned. "Besides, it's good practice for you; hobnobbing with powerful people. You'll have to do that when you're a successful attorney."_

Sam smiled in his sleep.

_Sam walked into the apartment and smiled when he saw the plate of cookies. The note Jessica left for him simply said, I love you. He heard the shower running and grabbed a cookie before heading to the bedroom, content to be back home even though he and Dean weren't able to find their father. He flopped onto the bed, smiling, his eyes closed. _

_He felt something fall onto his face and he flinched. The second time it happened he opened his eyes to see Jessica pinned to the ceiling and bleeding. Almost before he could react, the ceiling burst into flames._

Sam jerked awake and for a moment he could feel the heat of the fire. He barely had his breathing under control when he heard his cell phone start to ring. He didn't even have to look at the caller id display to know it was his brother.

"Hey."

"Hey – you okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

"You sound weird."

"No, I'm fine. What's up?"

"I just thought I'd check in. I figured you were heading out for a night on the town soon –" Dean paused when Sam snorted. They both knew the odds of Sam being out on the town were slim. "I thought you'd call after that test earlier; how'd it go?"

Sam smiled to himself. Things were so different this time around. When Sam went to school the first time, it was on the heels of a huge fight with his father. John told him if he left to never come back and Dean stayed silent. There was no communication between him and his family until Sam was close to graduation and that was only because John disappeared. Before that, he got an occasional unsigned postcard from someone he assumed was Dean but there was no real connection. This time Dean offered him encouragement and congratulated him when he did well. His older brother was truly proud of him and not afraid to let him know.

"I think it went okay. I've been kind of out of it this week."

"Why?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Dean? Where are you?"

"Why?"

"Where are you?" Sam asked again.

"Portland." Dean thought he heard something in Sam's voice that he hadn't heard for quite a while. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam wanted to tell Dean what was happening; wanted to beg him to come to Stanford. But something stopped him. He was two weeks away from a break and Dean was already planning to visit Sam then. He sighed to himself.

"Nothing. I guess I'm just a little freaked out about exams coming up."

Dean didn't believe him but knew pushing him wouldn't do any good. Sam would talk when he was ready. When the conversation ended Sam laid on his back in bed, his hand curled around the phone. He wondered absently why he couldn't just be honest with Dean; after everything why couldn't he just be honest?

_He felt something fall onto his face and he flinched. The second time it happened, he opened his eyes to see Jessica pinned to the ceiling and bleeding. Almost before he could react the ceiling burst into flames._

"_Sam! Sammy!" Dean yelled as he rushed into the burning room._

_Sam struggled to free himself from Dean's grip but his brother pushed him out of the room. He could see Jessica burning and thought he heard her calling his name. Outside, he stood next to his brother as the fire crew fought to contain the blaze. He could have sworn he saw Jessica in the window._

He opened his eyes, Jessica's name on his lips. He stared at the ceiling as a stray tear escaped is eye. He quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He was at the coffee shop half an hour later; it was barely 5:30 Saturday morning.

Leaning back in a chair outside, sunglasses on, Sam was lost in thought and barely conscious of his surroundings. There weren't many people on the street that time of the morning, but he didn't notice someone watching him from across the street. He was thinking about Jessica, the demon, his father and – and wondering what the new dreams meant. He was scared he might be slipping back into a world he didn't want but yet still oddly craved. He didn't notice the man standing across the street staring at him.

"_Sam."_

He flinched.

"_Sam, stop fighting."_

Sam lurched forward, trying to hold onto the table for support. Before he knew what was happening, he'd fallen to the ground from the sudden pain in his head. He couldn't focus and when he felt someone grab his arms his first instinct was to fight but his body wouldn't obey.

"Hold on, Sam. It's me." Dean held onto his arms, grateful for the empty sidewalk. Sam collapsed onto his brother's lap and held onto Dean's sleeve.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's gonna be okay." Dean soothed.

A moment later Sam's vision cleared, the pain stopped and he saw Dean's face above him.

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

"Hey." Dean smiled, sounding much calmer than he felt. He held onto Sam when he tried to sit up. "Not so fast."

"I'm okay." Sam protested.

Dean waited briefly then helped his brother back up to the chair.

"What are you doing here?"

"I can't visit my brother?"

"You were in Portland yesterday." Sam said, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

"And I'm here today." Dean shrugged. "Was that a vision? Have they started again?"

Sam rubbed his face. "I only heard a voice; I didn't see anything."

Dean waited.

"I want to go back to the apartment." Sam said.

_TBC… unless you hate it_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I have to be honest. Thanks for the feedback! I'm getting closer to the stuff that I feel unsure about but we're not quite there yet. Sam and I have negotiated and I think we've come to a meeting of the minds about where this is headed. Dean is game for anything._

**Chapter 2**

They walked the four blocks to Sam's building in silence but Dean watched his brother from the corner of his eye. Sam's sunglasses fell off when he dropped from the chair and Dean saw the dark circles under his eyes. He was momentarily angry, knowing that Sam hadn't been sleeping well and knowing, too, it wasn't due to studying late into the night. In the apartment Sam dropped onto the couch, resting his head on the back. Dean sat down next to him.

"How long ago did this start?"

Sam glanced at him. "The dreams started a week or so ago. I'd wake up knowing I'd had one but not being able to remember it. Then, a couple nights ago –"

"What happened a couple nights ago?" Dean prompted gently.

Sam closed his eyes.

"Sam?"

"I started dreaming about Jessica again. The ceiling, the fire – the whole thing all over again."

"Aw, Sam," Dean didn't know what to say.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes. "The voice you heard today – do you know who it was?"

Sam nodded. "It was Jess. She said to stop fighting."

"Stop fighting what?"

When Sam didn't answer, Dean repeated the question. "Stop fighting what, Sam?"

"I don't know." his voice was a whisper.

Dean didn't believe him but didn't want to push. Or maybe he was afraid of what Sam would tell him. Either way, he wasn't prepared for this conversation. He decided to deal with what he could instead. Sam looked like hell and probably hadn't eaten right since the dreams started again.

"When did you eat last?"

Sam looked at him. "What?"

"Food? You've heard of it. When did you last eat?"

"Yesterday, I guess."

"You guess? Sammy –"

Sam was going to correct Dean's use of his childhood nickname but the reality was that he sometimes found comfort in it. Dean didn't use it to make Sam feel small or incompetent but instead as a term of endearment. He looked at his brother, a sudden surge of emotion threatening to overtake him.

"How about some breakfast?" Dean suggested. "Then we'll come back here and you can get some sleep."

"I have to study. I have exams next week,"

"You have to eat and sleep or the studying isn't going to do you any good."

"Give me a second." he moved toward the bathroom then hesitated, his hand on the door jam. "I can't do this again, Dean." he said in a small voice.

"It's gonna be okay, Sam." Dean said it but he wasn't quite sure he believed it.

After breakfast at a small café, the brothers went back to the apartment. Dean settled on the couch with the television remote while Sam crawled into bed. He didn't want to sleep but Dean was right; if he didn't he would never be able to get any studying done.

Sam woke up three hours later without dreaming. He didn't hear any noise coming from the living room and, for a moment, thought he had imagined Dean's arrival. He was surprised at how sad that thought made him. Walking into the living room, he found Dean asleep on the couch. Sam smiled down at him then grabbed his backpack and settled at his small desk to study.

Dean had driven all night to reach his brother. After hearing his voice in their last phone call Dean knew something was wrong; more wrong than Sam was willing to let on. The younger brother had changed so much the first time he went to college. He had left the family as a rebellious teenager, mad at the world and furious with John for a lifetime of things. What Dean found when he went to Stanford asking for Sam's help was a strong man who knew exactly what he wanted out of life. The first months after Jessica died were hard for both of them. Sam was so angry and bitter; the nightmares took a toll on him physically and emotionally. Dean, the big brother, had always been able to make things better for Sam but this was something he couldn't fix. Gradually, Sam became less angry and less reckless; he was an equal partner in the hunt and they grew closer as brothers again.

But as close as they became, there were still things they couldn't voice. Sam still had a hard time asking for help. Dean assumed that was from always being the younger brother and the bottom of the Winchester pecking order. But he heard Sam's tone; had heard it for over a week and couldn't ignore it anymore. He knew Sam wouldn't ask him to come but he also knew that Sam needed him. He couldn't wait for the end of the term when they had a week planned together so he got in the car and headed for California.

He intended to go straight to Sam's apartment but had seen him walking down the street. He parked and followed at a distance, attempting to assess his brother's condition. He was wearing sunglasses and walking a little unsurely. Dean watched him walk into the coffee shop and was glad to see him take an outside table so he could keep watching. He nearly screamed when he saw Sam fall to the ground; he'd seen the same thing happen too many times before and it made him sick. He knew what Sam looked like when he had a waking vision and this was it.

Dean woke up early in the afternoon, immediately seeing Sam at the small desk with his nose in a book. Sam had always been so smart; frighteningly so sometimes. He was able to do Dean's homework better than Dean did when they were kids and even as a young child he could read some impressive books. Dean didn't tell him how proud he was, but he felt it. Even when Sam went away to college on a full scholarship Dean didn't tell him he was proud. He was angry at Sam and their father because both of them were too pig-headed to see the other's point of view but he was still proud of his brother. Even now Dean had a hard time talking about his feelings but he made a point out of congratulating Sam on his good grades and tried to be supportive when Sam called to vent about an assignment. He sometimes wished he could go back and change Sam's first college experience but settled instead for making this one better.

Sam was so engrossed he didn't notice Dean getting up and heading to the bathroom.

"Hey." Sam smiled when Dean came back into the room a few minutes later.

"Hey. How's the studying going?"

"Good. I got a lot done."

"Amazing what food and sleep will do." Dean said dryly and flopped back down onto the couch.

Sam closed the book and leaned back in his chair. "You want to go out tonight? I'm sure you could impress some college girls with your rugged good looks."

Dean grinned. "Of course I could. So, do you go out with your friends much?"

Sam glanced away and shrugged. "You know how I am."

"Yeah, I do." Dean sighed to himself. "Please tell me you don't hole up in here alone all the time."

"I don't." Sam said quietly. "I go out sometimes."

Dean looked disbelieving.

"I do." Sam insisted. "Sometimes."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"So? You wanna go out? There's a bar down the street where I hang out with a few people sometimes. It's not strictly a college place and a band plays on Saturday nights."

Dean watched Sam as he talked. It was painfully clear that the suggestion of the bar was made for Dean's benefit; Sam probably had only been there a handful of times. He considered taking him up on his offer because he knew his brother could use some fun. But Sam had spent too many hours in too many bars watching Dean enjoy himself while sitting in the corner with their father's journal, a newspaper or his computer.

"You know what; I was in the car all night and I'm still feeling a little worn out even after some sleep. Why don't we just get a movie and grab some takeout?"

Sam was surprised. "Really?"

Dean smiled; sometimes it was so easy to make Sammy happy. "Sure. Why not?"

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: This might just be one big chick flick moment but that's the beauty of fan fiction! We're getting closer to the stuff that I'm not so sure about so I hope you'll all stick around for the ride. Thanks to everyone who has provided feedback and, as always, to Kelli who fixes my typos and encourages me along the way._

**Chapter 3**

Later, during two movies, Mexican food and some beer the brothers sat contently on the couch. Dean was worried about Sam but was willing to give him some time before prodding more about the dreams. He turned the television off when Sam fell asleep before the second movie ended and watched him quietly for several minutes.

"What's going on, kiddo?" he whispered, gently laying a hand on his arm. Sam muttered something and shifted, but didn't wake. Dean helped him lie down then covered him with the blanket he had used earlier before heading into the bedroom.

He glanced around the room, randomly picking things up and putting them down. He had seen the room on his other visits but it struck him only now how stark it really was. The whole apartment was functional but not particularly warm. It almost reminded Dean of all the motel rooms they'd stayed in over the years. He knew Sam didn't need a lot of material things, neither one of them did, but there was so very little of Sam in the apartment. Other than a couple of family pictures, there weren't a lot of personal items around the place. There were books everywhere but no artwork on the walls, no knick-knacks, no mementos of any kind. He was sure if he looked in the kitchen cupboards, he'd find very little in the way of dishes or food. He was suddenly aware of how hidden Sam was; even from himself.

"_Sam."_

_He looked up from the book he was reading but he found himself alone in the room._

"_Sam."_

"_You're not real." he said, even though he could feel her and smell her perfume._

"_Sam, you have to listen to me."_

_Sam looked back to the book, trying to ignore the voice._

"_Sam, please. Listen to me." Jessica's voice was more insistent. "You have to stop fighting."_

_He put the book down. "Stop fighting what, Jess? I don't understand."_

"_Yes you do."_

"_Jessica, please. I want to see you. Please tell me what you mean."_

"_Sam." she said, her voice sounding further away._

"_Jessica?"_

_The ceiling above him exploded into flames._

Dean had just crawled into Sam's bed when he heard him yelling Jessica's name. He ran to the living room to find Sam awake and sitting up, his head in his hands.

"Sam?" Dean called quietly as he sat down next to him.

Sam didn't move.

"Talk to me, Sam." he said gently.

Sam looked at him with tears in his eyes. Neither brother was particularly prone to crying, but certain things could elicit tears. For Sam, one of those things was Jessica.

"Tell me."

Sam shook his head. "I can't do this, Dean, not again."

Dean watched as Sam stood on unsteady legs and walked across the room. He leaned against the wall, his forehead on the cool glass of the window. "I can't do it."

"Sam –"

Sam suddenly fell to the floor. At first Dean thought he had passed out, but then Sam put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Dean wanted to rush to his side but he suspected this was already hard enough for Sam without Dean hovering over him. He felt too far away on the couch and slowly moved toward him, leaning against the desk. He had watched Sam deal with the nightmares about Jessica, the dreams that were actually premonitions and finally the waking visions that cause him intense physical pain. He had already wondered what was causing the dreams again but put that out of his mind, needing instead to deal with the immediate effects of what the nightmares were doing to his brother.

"Sam." he said gently. "Tell me about the dream."

When Sam didn't respond, he added. "Please."

That wasn't a word Dean used often and it caused Sam to lift his head and look at his brother. A stray tear rolled down his cheek and Dean's heart jumped into his throat. When Sam was little and something would cause him to cry, Dean had no problem wrapping him in a protective hug. He was sorely tempted to do that now, but instead stayed where he was.

Sam slowly recounted the dream, ending with seeing Jessica on the ceiling and watching her die again. His voice was low and shaky, making Dean almost struggle to hear him. He used that as an excuse to move closer and before Sam was finished with his brief story, Dean was sitting on the floor next to him.

"Why am I dreaming about her again?" Sam asked in a small voice.

"I don't know, Sam." he paused knowing he was going to have to proceed carefully. "Maybe she's telling you that it's time to move on."

Sam ignored him. "Stop fighting, she said. What am I fighting? What is she trying to tell me?"

"You know, this might just be a regular dream. Is there something going on that is making you think about her more or –"

"Our anniversary. We would have been together – God – five years soon."

"I know you loved her, Sam, and you always will but you have to move on. Maybe that's what this dream is telling you."

"You don't think it's really Jess. What about what happened at the coffee shop this morning?"

"Sam, those visions were connected to the demon that killed Jessica. That demon is gone."

"Are we sure about that?"

"Yeah, we are." Dean tried not to sound angry. This conversation was moving painfully close to the final battle; the fight in which they lost their father and Dean hadn't quite come to terms with that yet.

Sam saw his brother's jaw set. He knew he was about to hit a nerve and he backed off. The demon that killed their mother and Jessica knew exactly how to hurt the brothers the most and after the near fatal car accident, infiltrated their father's body again. It made John Winchester leave his sons, hurt and near death, in the hospital. The doctors had been amazed at John's rapid recovery, but Sam and Dean knew the truth. They chased him for a year after recovering themselves, knowing that this time one of them would have to kill John to destroy the demon. Even though the Impala had been all but destroyed when the semi truck plowed into it, they managed to recover the special Colt and the one remaining bullet. They finally caught up to the demon in their hometown; it somehow seemed appropriate that the fight end where it started.

This time Dean made sure he had the gun when the time came because he didn't want Sam to have to deal with killing their father. It had always been Dean's job to protect his brother. Sam had too much to handle as it was. He felt guilty for Jessica's death because he ignored the dreams that predicted it. He also felt that the demon killing their mother was also his fault. Dean also spent a lot of time blaming himself for Jessica dying even though Sam insisted he wasn't responsible.

The demon was holding their father and had spent a year making John do things he never would have done and keeping him just alive enough to be aware. Since Mary's death, all John wanted was to destroy the demon that robbed his boys of their mother, but he let it rule his life for too long. Somehow the boys grew up and before he knew it he realized he'd wasted their entire childhoods on vengeance.

He had been disappointed that Sam let Dean talk him out of shooting in the cabin when the demon had him the first time. Instead of offering his youngest son comfort as Sam rushed them to the nearest hospital, he berated Sam for not understanding that nothing came before killing the demon. But Sam had been right when he said that family came first. John should have known that a long time before and should have given his boys a normal life. He should have found a better way to protect them than turning them into warriors but it was too late for that now.

The demon wouldn't give up John and even after a year of trying to find another way, Dean was forced to shoot his father in the heart. It had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. At least until he took Sam back to school.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: Well, well! What has that Sam been up to? This is where I started to get uneasy about the story but I think I'm okay with it now. I hope you are, too! Thanks for the reviews and private messages. I love the feedback! Thanks, as always, to Kelli._

**Chapter 4**

Dean shook his head and Sam knew what he'd been thinking about.

"So what happened at the coffee shop this morning?" Sam asked quietly a moment later.

Dean hesitated, still not completely recovered from the tangent in the conversation. "I don't know, Sam, but you didn't see anything did you? You just heard the – Jessica's – voice. That never happened before."

Sam looked thoughtful.

"One thing that I think will help is you getting out of this apartment once in a while. Make some friends; go out on a date, anything but sit in here and study all the time." Dean said gently.

"I – I don't want a relationship. It's too hard." Sam said quietly.

"No one said anything about a relationship. Dude, dating doesn't have to be a relationship." Dean looked at him. "But what do you mean, it's too hard?"

"Not being able to be honest."

"About what? You're a regular guy going to law school. You're freakishly smart, but a regular guy. You're not hunting anymore."

Sam looked away but not before Dean saw something in his eyes.

"Sam – you're not hunting anymore. Right?"

"I'm not." Sam pushed himself up and walked across the room. "Exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Sam said nothing.

"Sam?" Dean prompted sternly.

Sam shrugged but didn't look at his brother. "It's nothing. I'm not out looking for trouble but if I happen to – hear – about something, then, well –" he left the sentence unfinished.

"You hated that life."

Sam whirled. "No I didn't!"

Dean was surprised by the flash of anger. He stood up and moved closer to his brother. "Since when?"

"I hate the way we grew up." Sam said controlling his temper. "And I like feeling safe, but I can't just ignore things, okay?"

"Ignore what?"

Dean's eyes followed Sam as he paced nervously.

"What haven't you been telling me, Sam?"

"No more or less than you've been telling me." Sam said quietly.

"When did this become about me?" Dean demanded. "Come on, Sam!"

"I've been dreaming about more than Jessica. I've been having dreams about other things."

"For how long?" Dean asked quietly.

"A while."

"You said you didn't remember the dreams until a couple nights ago."

"I didn't remember the dreams about Jess until a couple nights ago. And I don't exactly remember the other dreams, but I sense something and end up where I can help."

Dean looked at his brother disbelieving. Sam looked away.

"Sam, I didn't –" Dean's voice broke and he walked back to the window.

"Didn't what?" Sam asked. "You didn't what, Dean?"

"I didn't let you go so you could do this alone." Dean said quietly. "Without someone to watch your back."

"It's not like that. Simple hauntings, poltergeists. Nothing big."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Dean demanded facing Sam again.

Sam shrugged. "I didn't want you to worry."

"It's my _job_ to worry about you. I'm your brother."

"Dean, I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to protect me. You know I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I know you can." Dean moved to the couch. "But I lived my whole life looking out for you. Ever since –"

Sam sat next to his brother. "Ever since you carried me out of the house in Lawrence."

Dean looked at him and nodded.

"I thought you wanted to be free of it, Sammy. That's why I wanted you to come back to school."

"I know that. And I like school. But I don't think I can ever be free. Not with the premonitions."

Dean looked miserable.

"It's okay, Dean."

"You're having nightmares and premonitions again. What's okay about that? You're not sleeping right, you're not eating right. What's okay about that?"

"Dean –"

"Don't try to convince me that you're fine with this because I know you better than that. I know you only went back out with me before because you wanted to find Jessica's killer. I know you hated it –"

"I didn't –" Sam protested.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, I kinda hated it. But we helped people, didn't we?" Sam asked, almost desperate.

"Yeah, we did, Sammy. But what about school?"

"You know you're the one who wanted me to come back here."

"We destroyed the demon. That's all you signed up for."

He stood up and stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. "Dude –"

Dean held up his hand. "Yeah, I know. It's your life and your decision. Are you sorry you're back here?"

"No. I told you, I like school. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I'm done but I want to finish." Sam sat back down on the couch. "Look, it's late and we're both tired. I have more studying to do tomorrow – I have a meeting with a study group at noon. Let's table this for now, okay?"

Dean nodded and sighed. "Okay. Get out of my bedroom."

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I really don't know what to say about this section so maybe I'll just stick with thanking everyone for the feedback and for Kelli's typo-hunting. _

**Chapter 5**

Sam spent the rest of the night in an undisturbed sleep. He found Dean in the kitchen the next morning, watching the coffee brewing.

"Hey."

Dean glanced at him. "How was the rest of your night?"

"I slept through it."

"Good."

"There's food if you're hungry." Sam leaned against the counter.

"I found some moldy bread and something I couldn't identify in the refrigerator."

"Oh. I guess it's been a while since I've done any grocery shopping."

"Looks like. I can go out while you're with the study group."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know, but if I'm going to be here for a while –"

Sam looked at him hopefully. "You're going to be here for a while?"

"I was planning to be here next week anyway. Doesn't seem to be a lot of point in leaving now just to come back in a few days."

Sam wanted to ask Dean a million questions like what he was doing in Portland, what he did for money and how he could just leave at the drop of a hat. But he was tired and had to leave to meet his study group soon; he didn't want to get into a deep conversation. He'd asked Dean about his life before but was always given vague answers. Truth be told, he didn't try very hard to find out anything. He didn't want to know that Dean missed him or that Dean was doing things he shouldn't be doing; illegal or otherwise. He wanted to believe that his brother was living a happy life and he was afraid if he asked too many questions he'd find out that wasn't the case.

Or maybe he was more afraid to find out that Dean _was_ living a happy life.

Dean glanced at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you're going to be here but it's going to be a crazy week. I have finals on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday."

"I'm sure I can find something to do to amuse myself."

Sam nodded.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna take a shower. I have to get going soon. Save me some coffee."

Dean watched Sam walk out of the kitchen, wondering what Sam hadn't said.

Later, Dean took the opportunity of being alone in the apartment to look around. Like the bedroom, the living room was stark. In addition to a large bookshelf filled to capacity, it held a couch, coffee table, desk and the television. Dean stood in the middle of the room and turned, taking in the entire room, wondering why he hadn't noticed before how empty his brother's home was. He also wondered what, if anything, that might mean. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and noticed something under the bed. Kneeling down, he pulled out a large metal box that he recognized as having come from their house in Lawrence. They got it from a young woman who was living in their old house with her two young children. She had found it in the basement shortly after moving in.

Dean sat down on the floor, his hand on the box. That was when Sam admitted he had dreams that sometimes came true and that he had dreamed about Jessica's death for days before it happened. Hearing that had frightened Dean, but he couldn't look afraid to his brother because Sam was barely holding it together at the time. The last thing Dean wanted to do was go back to the place where his mother died, but Sam had a premonition about the family that currently lived in their old house needing help and he could deny Sam nothing.

He slowly opened the box. Inside were the same pictures Dean remembered looking at before; pictures of his parents before he was born, pictures of him and Sam before Mary died. He had such little memory of that time; he'd only been four when the demon came for Mary but he clearly recalled running down the hall when he heard his father scream. John put the six month old Sam in Dean's arms with the instruction to run. He did as he was told and ran out of the house; he turned as he heard an explosion and as he did, John came running and scooped both boys up in his arm and took them to a safe distance.

Dean didn't notice the tear running down his cheek as he stared at a picture of his mother. His entire life changed that night and it still hurt to think about it. His intense feeling of responsibility to Sam stemmed from his father entrusting the baby to him that night. He would do anything to protect Sam and he was terrified that his brother might be headed back down the road where it would be impossible for Dean to help him.

He replaced the pictures and pushed the box back under Sam's bed. He glanced at the dresser across the room but decided he'd invaded enough of his brother's privacy for one afternoon. Sam told him about the dreams and about the premonitions that recently led him back into fighting ghosts and other paranormal beings. Dean was sure if he looked a little more he would find weapons and other tools of the trade, but he was afraid if he looked too hard he'd find things he didn't want to see.

As he told Sam he would, Dean went to the grocery store to pick up some provisions. He flirted with a cute blonde who was stocking paper goods, then turned his attention to the redhead who needed help reaching something in the next aisle. Back at the apartment, he put his purchases away then settled on the couch to watch some television. Finding nothing that kept his interest, he looked closer at Sam's books. There were many law books, some fiction and a lot of books about the paranormal. He recognized some of them, but it was obvious Sam had gotten others recently. He didn't want to think about the reasons Sam would be buying books about the paranormal so he grabbed something that looked like it would be a light read and went back to the couch.

He was engrossed in the book when Sam got home a few hours later.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to his desk.

"Reading." Dean glanced up.

"Huh."

Dean looked at him, annoyed. "Bite me."

Sam smiled and walked into the kitchen. He was surprised at the fully stocked refrigerator and cabinets.

"Dean, you didn't have to buy all this."

"It's not like you had anything here. Now maybe you can eat once in a while."

Sam returned to the living room with a soft drink. "Thank you.'

"Don't mention it. How'd the study session go?"

"Good."

"Everyone else go home?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean put the book aside. "Did everyone else go home or did they go out for food or something?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. But it wouldn't matter because you're here."

"I'm a big boy, Sam. And you need to start making some connections."

"Do you have connections?" Sam sat down on the coffee table.

"Why do you always try to turn it around to me?"

"Because you never talk about what you do. And when I ask, you give me some vague non-answer. Don't you think I worry about you like you do me?"

"Sam, I'm fine."

Sam looked at him.

Dean sighed and sat up, facing his brother. "I have a few buddies I hang out with sometimes."

"What were you doing in Portland?"

"Living. I've been there for about five months. Before that, I just kind of wandered around."

"What do you do for money?"

"I've told you that I tend bar."

Sam shook his head, smiling. "Yeah. I guess I can see that."

"The chicks tip me good." Dean grinned.

"So, you're okay?"

"Yeah, Sam, I'm okay."

He nodded, but looked sad.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, Sam?" Dean asked gently.

He shrugged. "You could live here."

"Here?"

"Yeah, there are bars here too, ya know."

"I like Portland. And I'm only a phone call away." Dean said carefully, not sure where Sam was headed.

Sam nodded.

"What is it, Sam?"

He stood up and walked across the room. "I just – we were together almost twenty-four hours a day for two years. I've been here for a year and I – I guess I still miss that. I thought maybe –"

"Sam –" Dean hesitated. "I want you to have a good life and I want you to be happy. I just; I just thought you needed your own space. Do you know that ever since I helped you move in here I've not been more than a day's drive away?"

"Seriously?" Sam looked surprised.

"Seriously. And I am here any time you need me."

"You know that goes for me too, right?"

"I know it does." Dean was very close to hugging his brother. Instead, he playfully hit him on the arm and stood up. "What time is your final tomorrow?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, recognizing the moment was over.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: It's short but sets up some stuff. Is it getting repetitive to thank you guys for reading and reviewing? What about thanking Kelli for all her hard work?_

Chapter 6

Sam went through the next few days without a single nightmare or premonition. It was almost like they knew he had a stressful week full of final exams and were intentionally leaving him alone. While Sam was studying or taking his tests, Dean kept himself busy. He thought about what Sam said regarding him living in Palo Alto several times that week and, as much as he loved his brother, just couldn't see it. He liked Portland; he actually did have some friends and working at the bar was fun as well as lucrative. He didn't depend on credit card scams or hustling pool for money to eat anymore; he was even able to help Sam out with some of his expenses.

He did miss spending time with Sam, though. They talked on the phone a lot but it wasn't the same as being together. And now that the nightmares and premonitions were back – but were they really back? Dean sat outside the coffee shop where he saw Sam collapse to the ground and thought about the last few days. There were no nightmares; not even so much as broken sleep at night. He hoped they were gone for good but couldn't quite believe that was the case.

Dean was right. Sam came home, exhausted, after his last test on Thursday afternoon. That one had been the most challenging and he barely slept the night before because he was so worried about it. Dean stayed up with him, asking him questions from the study guide, and was even up with him the morning of the test to wish him well. Dean made a point of being at the apartment when Sam got there but all his brother wanted to do was sleep.

"_Sam."_

_He shifted in his sleep._

_Jessica sighed. "Sam, you have to listen to me. Please?"_

_Sam saw Jessica standing in the doorway when he looked away from the television._

"_What's up?" he asked._

_Jessica came further into the room. Sam noticed something was odd – he looked at her again and for a moment could have sworn he could see through her._

"_Jess –"_

"_You have to listen to me. You've sensed that things are changing, haven't you?"_

_Sam looked at her confused. _

"_Think about it, Sam. This isn't real; you're asleep in your bed –"_

"_Jessica, you're talking crazy. What's going on?"_

"_Honey, things are going to start happening again and you have to stop fighting. You need to finish school, but you can't ignore the other things –"_

"_Of course I'm going to finish school –"_

_Jessica smiled at him sadly. She didn't know how to get through to him and time was running out. The living room dissolved and she found herself in the bedroom, being lifted to the ceiling. "Sam, don't." she whispered, but it was too late._

Sam woke up sweating and breathing hard. He looked at the clock next to his bed; it was almost 6:30 but he couldn't tell if it was morning or night. After getting himself under control, he left the bedroom. He found Dean at the desk, laptop open in front of him, and realized it must be Thursday night.

"Dean--"

The older Winchester looked up and was shocked at how pale Sam was. It had been a hard week of exams but Dean guessed he'd had another dream.

"I figured you'd sleep through the night." he said, trying not to react too strongly to Sam's appearance.

"I had another nightmare." Sam said sadly as he flopped down on the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Dean asked him that question more in the last year than in their entire life but it still struck Sam to hear it.

"Can we take off in the morning?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"I'm done with exams. Let's just jump in the car and go somewhere – I don't care where."

"Are you serious?"

Sam nodded. "I want to get away from here for a while. Please?"

Dean looked at his brother, surprised to hear the pleading tone. "Sure."

"How about Portland?" Sam asked, awake and suddenly excited. "I'll take a bus back so you don't have to drive me –"

"Hold on, there, kiddo. You want to go to Portland?"

Sam heard Dean's less than enthusiastic tone and felt like he was sinking into the couch. He realized that Dean was always ready to visit Sam, but never invited Sam into his world.

"Or somewhere else." Sam said quietly.

Dean paused watching his brother. "Sam, I will go anywhere with you. If you want to go to Portland, we'll go to Portland. But if you're trying to run from your dreams, it's not going to work. They go where you do."

Sam nodded. "I know that. You're really okay with me coming to Portland?"

"Of course I am. But I'm not going to make you take a bus back here."

Sam grinned the dopey little brother gin that always touched Dean's heart. Sometimes it really was easy to make Sammy happy.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: Still kind of setting things up here so don't expect a whole lot. We're not too far from the end, I think, but there's still some work to be done. Thanks for sticking with me; your feedback is welcome and appreciated._

**Chapter 7 **

Dean leaned against Sam's bedroom door, watching his younger brother sleep. He'd gotten up to use the bathroom and when he heard Sam calling Jessica's name, went to check on him. Sam would have been embarrassed by this, but there had been no shortage of Dean watching over his brother's sleep through the years. Sam settled down on his own, but still Dean watched him. He wondered again if the dreams weren't rooted in something other than the supernatural; if it was the upcoming anniversary causing the dreams about Jessica.

Sam had always been plagued by nightmares. When they were young, Dean would wake to the sound of his brother screaming as he came out of some awful dream. At first it was their father who comforted Sam, but gradually Dean took over that role. Instead of Dean watching John rush into the room at the first hint of Sam's terror, he would tend to his brother with John watching from the doorway. Sometimes it was easy to get him back to sleep, other times it took every ounce of ingenuity and brotherly concern that Dean could muster. Sometimes sleep would not return. As Sam got older, the screaming stopped but Dean would still wake up when his brother dreamed. Before Sam left for school, the dreams had all but stopped.

Dean wondered, not for the first time, what made the dreams worse at some times than others. Were the dreams in Sam's childhood premonitions of some kind or did that truly not start until the dreams before Jessica's death? There was no way of knowing. Eventually, Dean returned to the living room and settled under a blanket on the couch. He was a little anxious about taking Sam to his home – home; that was not a word he had ever used to describe where he now lived. Oddly, even though he had only visited Stanford, Dean thought of Sam's apartment as home. It occurred to him as he drifted off to sleep that the only home he'd ever really known was with Sam.

Sam was tired the next morning but eager to get on the road. He told the couple of people that might have missed him he would be gone for a while at the party the night before and packed when he got home. He was used to traveling light, having done it his entire life, and it hadn't taken him long.

They packed a few snacks for the road and after stopping for gas and coffee, were on their way north. Later, Dean glanced over at his brother who had fallen asleep with his head against the passenger side window. He couldn't help but smile a little thinking back to all the other times he'd witnessed the same thing. For so long it seemed like the only real sleep Sam could get was in the car. Dean reached over to turn down the radio even though it obviously wasn't bothering his brother and settled back in his seat. He had the unusual urge to touch Sam's arm but instead put both hands on the steering wheel and concentrated on the road in front of them.

Sam woke up with a slight start. He sat up and glanced at Dean who was pretending not to notice.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, rubbing his face with his hand.

"About two hours south of Portland. I was planning to stop soon and get something to eat. There's a town not too far away."

"Sounds good."

Dean pulled into the parking lot of a roadside diner he'd stopped at before on his way from Sam's. They made a pit stop in the men's room, then settled at a corner booth. The place was nearly empty after the lunch rush and the waitress took care of them immediately. Dean didn't approve of Sam's ordering a bowl of soup instead of something more hearty but at least the kid was eating.

With the excitement of a small child, Sam started asking questions about Dean's life in Oregon. He asked Dean to describe his apartment, the neighborhood, and the bar he worked in. Dean answered all of his questions with the patience only a big brother could have, happy to see Sam enthusiastic about something.

Once they hit Portland, Sam took everything in as Dean drove to his apartment, pointing things out along the way. He was a little surprised to find that the apartment was over the bar where Dean worked.

"The building is owned by Mike Bradford. I met him when I first got into town." Dean explained as he and Sam got their bags from the trunk. "I was checking out the bar and we just got to talking somehow. Turned out I was able to help him with a problem and before the week was out he offered me a job and told me I could rent the apartment upstairs"

Sam smiled as they walked to the private entrance of the apartment. "And he just let you have time off to come to California and –"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. We have an arrangement."

"What kind of problem did you help him with?" Sam asked, waiting while Dean unlocked the door.

"Poltergeist."

"What?"

Dean led the way inside. "It just sort of happened. I'm not hunting anymore." he looked pointedly at his brother. "Unlike some people."

"I told you –"

Dean waved him off. "I know."

Sam put his bag down and took in the room.

"It's nothing fancy, but it's private." Dean said.

Sam walked past a large television and concentrated on the shelves across the room. They contained a few books, some crystals and some of the old family snapshots put into frames. The room also contained a stereo, large comfortable looking sofa and classic rock posters on the walls. The room felt so much like Dean.

"There are two small bedrooms in the back; the place came furnished so there are even two beds." Dean nodded toward the back of the apartment. "There's a bathroom between them. Kitchen's over there."

Dean picked up Sam's bag and deposited in the spare bedroom while Sam continued to look around. It surprised Sam a little that Dean had made the place feel so warm because he'd always insisted he didn't need a home or anything resembling a normal life. Of course Sam always thought that was the bravado talking and he took the apartment as proof.

"It looks like you've got a real life here, Dean." Sam said as his brother came back into the room.

"It's just an apartment, Dude. Since I haven't been here for a week the fridge probably needs to be cleaned out, but we can go downstairs for food later. It's pretty well insulated so you won't hear a lot of noise from there. It's kind of a neighborhood place during the week but spices up a little on the weekends. There's a house band on Saturdays."

Sam sat on the couch.

"The bar has a wireless network; you can connect to the Internet if you want. Anything else you need, let me know."

"Thanks."

Dean sat next to his brother.

"I mean, it, Dean. Thanks for bringing me here."

"I know I never formally said it, but you're always welcome here. You're welcome where ever I am."

Sam smiled.

"There's a video store down the street and an antique bookstore you might find interesting. It's the Pacific Northwest so there's at least one Starbucks on every corner. Pretty much anything you might need is in walking distance. Tomorrow we can go out and do some exploring. I've done some but stick pretty close by here."

"You mentioned before you had buddies you sometimes hang out with."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. They're regulars at the bar but sometimes we come up here for a game or two of poker. Sometimes we go to another bar – I don't pick up women where I work."

Sam laughed. "It's still weird for me to think of you as working."

"I hang out in a bar, pour a few drinks. It's not that hard and it's decent money. Bob gives me time off pretty much any time I want it so it's not a whole lot like a real job."

Sam felt a sudden surge of emotion. Dean told him before that he was okay but now Sam really believed it. He thought it ironic that he, who always yearned for a normal life, would be the one to slip back into the hunter's world at the first opportunity while his brother seemed fine without it.

"Sam?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

Dean took him at his word and a few minutes later they retreated to the bedrooms to rest before deciding what to do with their evening.

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I am very curious to see how you guys react to this chapter. I have to warn you that this is the last of what I actually have written. I've tried to stay ahead with the writing but this week has just sucked so far and I don't see it getting any better until at least Thursday. I probably won't be able to update again until the weekend but I promise I know where I'm going. I have the ending written in my head and I don't think we're too far away._

Chapter 8

Sam opened his eyes. He was disoriented from a dream he barely remembered and from waking up in the unfamiliar room. It took a moment for him to comprehend where he was, and as he made his way to the living room, he realized he was alone in the apartment. He figured Dean had gotten tired of Sam's boring lifestyle and had gone out for some fun so he resigned himself to an evening front of the television alone. Just as he sat down on the couch, the door opened and Dean came in with two bags.

"I figured you'd still be asleep." Dean said as he put the bags on the coffee table. "Dinner is served. I had the cook downstairs make a couple burgers. There are fries and stuff, too."

"Thanks." Sam said quietly.

Dean glanced at his brother as he sat down next to him. "You okay?"

"I'm still kind of tired."

"Then why are you up?"

Sam shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmare?"

"I don't know. I think so, but I don't remember anything."

They sat quietly for a few minutes as Dean took a bite of his hamburger and Sam played with his. "Dude, you can't do this to yourself." he finally said. "I don't know about those other dreams you've been having – and we still need to talk about you hunting alone – but the ones about Jessica –"

"I don't want to talk about Jessica." Sam said angrily.

Dean looked at him, surprised.

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered, refusing to look at his brother.

"You may not want to, but I think you need to."

"You never wanted to hear about her before."

Dean knew that wasn't exactly true. He was curious about the woman that his brother loved, but talking things out was not the Winchester way. More correctly, it wasn't the John Winchester way and Dean had developed the same habit after Sam left for college the first time. When the brothers were growing up, and even when they were teenagers, they talked about almost everything. They were together so much, and so often left to their own devices, that sometimes it was all there was to do.

But what Sam said was true enough. Dean didn't encourage Sam to talk about Jessica after her death and Sam was in too much pain to do it on his own. Instead, he threw himself into the hunt. He plowed headlong into trouble without taking the time to assess the situation and, on more than one occasion, Dean had to pull him away from fire. But gradually Sam went back to the hunter Dean remembered; he researched every situation and critically analyzed every position. Dean pretended that meant Sam was over his grief, but he knew instead that Sam had only buried it. He was angry with himself for letting Sam suffer that way; especially now that the dreams about Jessica were happening again and Sam was right back where he was three years ago.

"Sam," Dean began carefully. "Look, back then – back then I—"

Sam held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I don't want to fight with you, man. I just want to spend time with you, see how you live. The dreams went away before and they'll go away again."

"You're probably right." Dean conceded. "But until you deal with your feelings, they'll keep coming back."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Deal with my feelings? You've been watching too much Dr. Phil, Dean."

Dean smiled, realizing how ridiculous that must have sounded coming out of his mouth. "Look, man, I'm just sayin' –"

"I know what you're saying." Sam looked at him, his eyes filled with a love he could never – and didn't need to – express. "And I appreciate it. I just don't want to have this conversation now."

Dean nodded. "Fair enough."

The next two days were spent exploring the neighboring city blocks. Dean had been right about the antique bookstore. Sam spent hours there his first afternoon in town and planned to go back again before he left. Dean enjoyed seeing his brother so relaxed and happy; it happened so infrequently. Even now that the hunt for the demon that killed his girlfriend was over, Sam seemed to have a hard time having fun.

They spent an evening in the bar where Dean worked. Sam liked seeing this part of Dean's world and he liked his brother's friends. They treated Sam like they'd known him for years and for the first time in a long time, Sam felt almost comfortable around other people. This did not go unnoticed by the older brother.

But things changed later in the week.

Dean agreed to fill in for another bartender on Thursday night. Sam hung out in the bar for a while, having fun watching his brother so clearly in his element. After he left, Sam walked back to the antique bookstore and bought something he'd seen his first time through. He headed toward the coffee shop on the corner but stopped in his tracks when he saw Jessica standing outside the door.

She turned to smile at him, gesturing him to follow. He walked just behind her as she led him toward Dean's apartment. He followed her up the steps that led to the private entrance and nearly called out for her when she disappeared in front of him. He frantically turned in every direction, looking for her, but saw the door open and walked into the apartment.

"Jessica!" he called. "Jess, where are you? Why are you here?"

"Sam." he heard her voice.

"Where are you, Jess? I can't see you."

"Here." she became barely visible on the couch. "But there isn't much time."

Sam sat next to her, reaching out with a trembling hand. It passed right through her.

"I'm sorry" she said sadly. "You have to stop holding on to me and live your life."

Sam felt a stab of pain and tears sprang into his eyes.

Jessica felt herself being pulled away.

"Sam, please don't. Not again. Not until I've told you what you need to know."

He looked at her confused. A moment later he was lying in his bed, opening his eyes to see Jessica on the ceiling above him.

"Sam? Sammy!" he heard Dean's voice from somewhere far away.

Dean cradled his brother's head in his lap. He'd come into the apartment a few minutes before, just in time to see Sam collapse in the middle of the living room. After a moment, Sam opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Dean?"

"What happened, Sam? Vision?"

Sam shook his head. He tried to sit up but a wave of nausea forced him back down. Dean touched his shoulder. "Give yourself a few minutes."

"She was here." Sam whispered.

"What? Who was here?"

"Jessica."

"You saw Jessica?"

"It wasn't a vision, Dean, she was really here."

"What did she say?"

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes as the tears began to flow freely.

"Sam," Dean had no idea what to say. He shifted so that his hold on his brother was more of an embrace.

After a moment, Sam reached up and grabbed Dean's arm. He held it as if he were to let go, the world would end.

Dean was so out of his element he nearly panicked but instead, he let his instincts take over. If they were both still kids, he would know how to comfort his brother so he let himself drift back to that time. He pushed his inhibitions and self-consciousness aside and just let himself be there for Sam. They didn't need words. Sam needed to let his feelings out and Dean needed to let him.

Dean didn't know how long it took for Sam to fall asleep. He stayed on the floor with his brother's head cradled in his lap, holding him protectively. He willed Sam not to dream; to have one night of peace and if he had to sit like this all night long to give that to Sam, he would.

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: The week shaped up better than I expected so I was able to spend some time with this story. As usual, Kelli was an excellent typo-hunter. Thanks for all the feedback!_

Chapter 9

Sometime later, Sam began to stir. When he realized his head was resting in Dean's lap and his brother's hand lay gingerly on his chest, he jerked into a sitting position.

"Dean," he fumbled, embarrassed.

"It's okay." Dean assured him.

"No, man, I'm sorry. I mean," Sam started to stand but Dean grabbed his arm.

"Listen to me." he said. "It's okay."

Dean looked into his brother's eyes and a moment later Sam settled next to him on the floor, his back against the couch.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, anyway." Dean said quietly.

Sam looked at him. "For what?"

"For not letting you do that sooner. For not making you do it."

Sam was quiet for several minutes. "Dad wouldn't have approved."

"Yeah, well Dad didn't know everything."

Sam looked at him, surprised.

"Maybe if he'd had a few more moments like that – well, maybe he wouldn't have been so angry and maybe – maybe we could have grown up differently."

"Dad was doing his best, Dean."

Dean nodded, then laughed. "That used to be my line."

Sam smiled in agreement. "Yeah, it was.

After a moment of silence, Sam asked, "When did that change?"

"I don't know."

"You're still mad at him." it wasn't a question.

"Not at him. At the situation. Just like you're angry about what happened to Jessica."

"I don't want to talk about Jessica." Sam said quietly.

"Dude, you can't keep this bottled up anymore. It's been three years and you're still as raw as you were the night it happened. I'm not going to tell you to get over it; you never really get over the death of someone you love. But you have to get past it, Sam. You have to get past it so you can have a normal life."

"Since when does Dean Winchester have anything good to say about having a normal life?"

"Yeah, well." Dean slapped his brother on the arm. "Dude, it's really late. You think you can go back to sleep?"

Sam shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."

There were only a few hours until dawn and they passed without incident. It took Sam quite a while to get back to sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about the changes in his brother. He seemed to slip so easily into the kind of life Sam always wanted; the kind of life Dean always scoffed at. Sam, on the other hand, felt uncomfortable so much of the time. He liked school and had the need to graduate, but outside of class, everything was so empty.

He also thought about his breakdown in front of Dean. He had never done that before; well not since he was eight or nine, maybe. Sam had always been volatile, but he learned at a young age that tears were not appropriate. John didn't tolerate weakness because he said it would get them killed. But when it was just him and Dean, John's rules didn't always apply. Dean seemed to understand that Sam needed to vent his emotions and, sometimes, that meant crying.

Dean was up just after 10:00 the next morning and was playing a video game when Sam wandered into the living room later. The younger brother sat down without a word and watched as Dean expertly guided his video race car to the finish line ahead of his computer-controlled opponents.

Dean handed him a controller and Sam took it without a word. They played in a comfortable silence for quite a while, but knowing there were still things to talk about. Sam also knew that he was going to have to go back to California soon and the idea did not set well with him. Classes didn't start again for a couple more weeks, but he and Dean only planned a week together and that was almost over. He'd thought about asking Dean if he could stay longer, but that would only delay the inevitable return to the loneliness and he didn't want to give Dean any more reason to worry about him.

"I think it's time for some food." Dean announced after Sam beat him for the third time.

Sam grinned. "Sore loser."

"Hungry loser." Dean corrected as he headed to the shower.

They ate at one of Dean's favorite places, then spent the afternoon exploring other parts of the city. They talked, but not about anything important, content just to spend time together. Dean was determined not to let Sam leave with things unresolved but, after so many years of sweeping things under the carpet, he knew the conversation couldn't be forced. He looked for openings all afternoon, but it never seemed like the right time.

After hanging out at the bar for a while, they returned home.

"Sam," Dean began.

"I'm really tired." Sam interrupted him. "I think I'm going to turn in."

Dean watched him fidget for a moment and decided to let him off the hook. "Okay. I'll see you in the morning."

Sam started to say something, but instead he simply nodded and headed to his bedroom.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

**Chapter 10**

"_Dean, I need to talk to you."_

_He opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in the driver seat of the Impala. It's not like he hadn't dreamed about it before, but not like this. He could smell the leather and when he touched the steering wheel, it felt real._

"_Dean?"_

_He looked toward the passenger side. "Jessica?"_

_She smiled, relieved. "Yeah. I need to talk to you."_

_Dean looked at her, confused. "Me?"_

"_I've been trying to talk to Sam but – but he still feels so guilty about what happened. Every time I try to communicate, he puts me back up on that damn ceiling."_

"_He puts you – what?"_

"_He still feels guilty about what happened to me, so his mind keeps reliving it. Every time I make a little headway, up I go." she nodded upward._

"_Oh." Dean looked at her. "So the dreams; they're you trying to communicate with him?"_

_Jessica nodded. "Yeah. Dean, he has to know something and since I can't tell him, you have to."_

"_Tell him what?"_

"_What happened to me wasn't his fault. He couldn't have stopped it. The demon would have waited for a time when Sam wasn't home; he could have been in class or running errands. He ignored the dreams, but he had no way of knowing they were real – and it wouldn't have mattered, anyway."_

"_You knew about the dreams?"_

"_I do now. And another thing, the premonitions are going to start up again. He has important work to do, Dean. You both do."_

"_Aw, Jess. He's back in school; he's building a life –"_

"_No, he isn't." she looked at him. "And you know it."_

_Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know. But he is in school and he's doing great. I don't want to see him give that up."_

"_It's important that he doesn't." Jessica said. "You have to make sure he stays in school. He needs you, Dean, so much."_

_Dean felt tears in his eyes. "I'm always there for him."_

"_I know that." Jessica smiled. "He knows it, too."_

"_Why does he have to get the damn premonitions? They're going to put him in the hospital."_

"_Only if he keeps fighting them. Dean," Jessica leaned forward. He has to stop fighting them. He can't stop them and if he doesn't learn how to live with them –"_

"_What?" Dean asked quietly. "What will happen?"_

"_I don't know." she saw the disbelief on Dean's face. "I really don't know. Dean, please, talk to him. Help him through this. He can have a good life, but it's never going to be the normal life he thought he wanted."_

"_Thought he wanted?"_

"_You've seen him how he lives. You know he doesn't have any real friends. When he's not in class, he's studying. He rarely goes out and when he does, it's not for very long and he's not comfortable enough to have fun. He's enjoyed the solitary hunts he's been on more than almost anything else since he's been back at Stanford. Dean, he needs you to help him with the transition and he needs your help with the premonitions. He's got to stay in school, but he can't stop hunting. Not now."_

"_What should I do?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse._

_Jessica smiled at him. "Just do what you've always done."_

"_What about the dreams about you? Are they going to stop?"_

_She looked sad. "I won't try to contact him again until he's ready for me to say goodbye. Or until he doesn't need me to. But you have to tell him he isn't responsible for my death."_

"_I have told him that, Jessica. He doesn't believe me."_

"_Then I have to tell him myself."_

"_With the dreams?"_

_She nodded. "But I'll be careful."_

_Dean nodded, satisfied. He didn't want to see Sam in pain, but if the dreams helped him get passed Jessica's death, they would be worth it._

"_I have to go. Take care of him, Dean. Please?"_

_He nodded again. "You know I will."_

_Jessica leaned forward and kissed Dean gently on the cheek as he closed his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, he was alone in his bed._

Sam woke up to the aroma of bacon cooking. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then he heard Dean rummaging in the kitchen.

"When did you learn to cook bacon?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

"Mornin', Sunshine." Dean joked. "Want coffee?"

"This domestic thing is freaking me out."

"It's just bacon, Dude." he grinned at Sam. "Wait until you see what I do with eggs."

They were out later when Dean's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID display and, seeing it was his boss, he answered the call.

"Sam walked down the street to give his brother some privacy. A moment later, Dean slapped him on the back. "Dude, we have a job."

"What?" Sam followed quickly.

"That was Mike. Remember I told you I helped him with a poltergeist?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Come on."

_TBC_


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: I have the ending written and we're really not too far away from it; it's in Kelli's fine hands now. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me in this story. It turned out a whole lot longer than I anticipated._

**Chapter 11**

"There's EVP all over that!" Sam said excitedly as he and Dean sat at the table in Mike's kitchen listening to a recording. "Where did you get this?"

"It's a friend's house; his name is Tom. He recorded this the other day and just told me about it. He was here for some of my poltergeist fun and –" Mike looked at Dean. "Can you help him?"

"Yeah." Sam said quickly.

"Tell us what's been going on." Dean said, glancing at his brother.

"He and his wife just bought the house a couple months ago and this stuff has been freaking them out since they moved in. Noises at night, things moved from one place to another. Nothing too crazy, but progressively more annoying. Than a couple nights ago, something attacked them."

"Attacked them?" Dean repeated.

"Yeah. Things started flying across the room; whatever was handy. Gloria, my friend's wife, got some cuts on her forehead when a vase hit her."

The brothers exchanged a glance.

"Let's go." Sam said.

Mike stood on the porch and watched as Dean drove off. Just behind him, Jessica smiled to herself.

As Dean drove toward the house, he couldn't help but see his brother's excitement. Sitting in the passenger seat, Sam couldn't keep still. His leg bounced and he chewed on his thumbnail as he stared out of the window. Dean wasn't sure how he felt. He thought back to his conversation with Jessica and knew, even though he didn't want to admit it, that this was the life Sam was destined for. It also seemed to be the life Sam wanted.

Dean parked across the street from Tom and Gloria's house just after the sun set. Mike had called to tell them that Dean and Sam were coming and Tom met them on the porch. He led them through the house and Dean's EMF reader picked up definite signs of a ghost.

"Why don't you let us take it from here?" Sam suggested when Gloria barely dodged a book that flew across the room. "We'll do a little research, see who owned the house and go from there."

"My pleasure." Tom said. "Gloria and I are going to Seattle for a few days anyway."

The brothers went back to the apartment. Sam booted up the computer while Dean went into his bedroom. He opened his closet and moved some boxes out of the way. In the very back, locked, sat the weapons safe. Even though he didn't use them, he still kept everything in pristine condition. He wasn't sure he was doing the right thing by his brother, but Jessica's words came back to him again as he gathered what they might need.

_He can't stop hunting. Not now._

Dean pushed the conversation from his mind and packed up the supplies he'd chosen.

"Dean!" Sam called. "Come here."

Dean joined his brother a moment later. "What have you got?"

"Sometimes it's just too easy." Sam grinned. "About twenty years ago there was a murder in the house. Husband came home and found his wife in bed with another man. He went nuts and started to beat on the guy."

"So that's our ghost."

"Nope. It's the husband, Doyle Glover. The boyfriend got the upper hand and killed him with a baseball bat." Sam tapped the computer screen. "Apparently married women are the ghost's targets; probably because of what happened with his wife."

"Great. A ghost with a complex. Okay Einstein, where do we find the guy's body?"

Sam clicked on a second browser window, the information already located.

"A little digging, a little salt and we're done." Sam said as they walked through the cemetery. "Sometimes it really is too easy."

Dean only nodded.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Nothing." he gestured toward a grave to their left. "We're here."

After digging to the coffin, Sam forced it open. "Hi Doyle."

Dean glanced at him.

Sam pulled out the rock salt and coated the body. Dean lit a match and tossed it into the coffin. Once they made sure the job was done, they made their way back to Dean's car. Everything happened too easily and was over too quickly. Dean was sure Jessica had something to do with it.

"You're quiet." Sam said as Dean drove toward his apartment.

"Sorry."

"You okay with this, Man? I never even asked –"

"I'm okay, Sam. I couldn't not help a friend."

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing."

Sam let it go. "It's nice having something familiar to come to after a job." He said as Dean unlocked the apartment door. "Those motel rooms got really tiring."

"Yeah." Dean went into the kitchen and returned a moment with two bottles. "And here we have beer."

Sam took one. "Thanks. You know, that was pretty easy, but we still make a good team."

"We always have." Dean agreed, trying to match Sam's enthusiasm.

They sat quietly for a moment.

"I guess we should figure out how I'm getting back to California." Sam said, trying a different tact to get his brother to talk.

"Yeah, about that. We need to talk." Dean looked at his brother. "Tell me about school."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you happy there?"

Sam looked confused. "You know I like school."

"Yeah. But are you happy there? Do you go out, do you have friends?"

"Dean." Sam looked away. "We've talked about this."

"So," Dean hesitated. "what if I moved to Palo Alto for a while?"

Sam looked at him, unable to hide his smile.

"I mean, I helped you move in and then just kind of took off. We spent twenty-four hours a day together for a couple years, then nothing."

"You're worried about me."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "Yeah. But there's more to it."

"What?"

"Sam, I want you to finish school and have some fun while you're doing it. I can help with that. I saw how much you enjoyed that little gig tonight and I know you're going to find ways to keep doing it. I can help with that, too. But I can't do either of those things from here."

"You're serious. You'd give up what you have here –"

Dean looked around the room. "Sammy, this is just stuff. I can put stuff in a box and put it anywhere. You're my brother. And the truth of the matter is, I miss you."

Sam blinked away tears and cleared his throat. "Uh, what about your job?"

"Someone told me they have bars in Palo Alto."

"Look, Man, I appreciate what you want to do, but I'm not sure I should let you."

"You don't have a choice." Dean smiled.

Sometimes it really was too easy to make his brother happy.

_TBC_


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: The Winchesters belong to Eric Kripke and I will be forever grateful to him for sharing them with us. I hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them from time to time; I promise to return them as I found them. And I know the rule. If I break them, I buy them._

_A/N: Well this is it. The giant chick flick is at its end. I'm sure Dean would rather gouge his own eyes out than have most of what happened in this story actually happen… but that's what fanfiction is for, right?We get to make them say and do things they won't on the show._

_Thanks for sticking with me on this one. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but it demanded to be written and who am I to not comply? Thanks, too, for Kelli's expert typo hunting and constant encouragement. _

**Chapter 12**

Dean lay in bed a few days later, staring at the ceiling. He had always put Sam's happiness before his own and never regretted it. This time was no different. He told Sam he liked Portland, and that was true, but it was also true he'd left Sam alone in Palo Alto hoping his brother would have the normal life he wanted. Sam always longed for that and Dean thought that if he wasn't around, Sam would take the opportunity to reach out for what he'd always wanted. But maybe Jessica was right. Maybe Sam didn't really want normal as much as he thought he did; at least not right now.

Dean was the one who'd managed to make some friends, and he would miss them, but Sam was more important. He always wanted to be a good brother, but realized he let Sam down in so many ways over the last few years. He shouldn't have allowed him push away his anguish over Jessica's death and just focus on hunting. That was what their father had done when Mary died and it turned him into a cold, hard man. The same thing could very well have happened to Sam; Sam who had always been so full of life and joy. He practically stood by while Sam's grief ate his brother alive.

Dean thought about the years they'd spent hunting. It nearly destroyed what Sam was, and now he was helping his brother get back into it.

_He can't stop hunting. Not now._

Why, Dean wondered. He glanced into a far corner of his bedroom when he noticed movement.

"_Hey, Jess." he said, not surprised to see her._

"_You're having second thoughts about going to California."_

"_No. I'm having second thoughts about helping Sam hunt."_

"_He'll do it with or without you. Isn't it better if you're with him?"_

_Dean nodded. "I guess so."_

"_You're doing the right thing, Dean."_

"_You seem to know a lot."_

"_I know some things, but I don't know everything." Jess sat down on the edge of the bed. "I miss him, Dean."_

_He sat up. "I'm sorry."_

"_I have to go soon. For good. And I don't want to do that with Sam still feeling so guilty. I want to try to talk to him again."_

_Dean sighed._

"_You'll help him? Take care of him?"_

"_You have to ask that?"_

_She smiled. "No, I suppose I don't."_

"_Are you going to try again tonight?"_

"_No. Do you think you could talk to him? Prepare him?"_

"_I can try."_

"_Thank you." she whispered._

All the boxes had been loaded into a rented truck with the help of Dean's friends the day before and they'd even thrown a little going away party at the bar. Mike gave Dean the phone number of a friend who owned a bar near the Stanford campus, and told him the friend was expecting his call. There was nothing left to do but drive to California.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam walked into the bedroom carrying two cups of take-out coffee.

Dean opened his eyes, immediately alert. "What time is it?"

"Just after nine." Sam put one of the cups on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Why'd you let me sleep so late? I thought we wanted to be on the road by now."

"You obviously needed it." Sam looked at him. "You drank a lot last night."

"I was just having some fun." Dean sat up and reached for the coffee.

"Yeah. You're not having second thoughts, are you? I mean, you can still change your mind and stay here."

"I don't want to stay here, Sam."

"You're sure?"

"Why? You havin' second thoughts about having me in California?"

"Of course not!" Sam answered quickly. "I, uh, I just want you to be sure about this."

Dean took a sip of coffee and looked Sam in the eyes. "Look. I know you can take care of yourself. And I know that you can do anything you set your mind to. But everyone needs someone at their back; someone who can take up the slack now and then. I wouldn't have offered to move if I wasn't sure."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

They were on the road within the hour, Sam driving the truck and Dean in his car. They stopped for food and gas, broke up the trip with a few phone calls, and finally pulled up to Sam's apartment just after midnight. Too tired for anything else, they left everything but the essentials in the vehicles and made their way inside.

"I'm exhausted." Sam groaned as he dropped onto the couch.

"Yeah, me too."

Sam glanced at Dean as his brother sat down. "You want to get some shut eye?"

"_Don't let him go to sleep without talking to him, Dean." _

"Yeah, but first," Dean turned to look at Sam. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Tonight?"

Dean nodded. "It's important."

Sam hadn't seen Dean look so serious in a long time. He sat straighter. "What's wrong?"

"Sam –" Dean sighed and stood up, pacing for several moments. "I talked to Jessica."

Sam felt like he'd been hit in the stomach. "What?" he asked, hoarsely. "How?"

Dean shrugged. "In dreams. I guess they were dreams. She's been trying to communicate with you, but –"

Sam shook his head. "No. No, that couldn't be. You didn't even know her."

"Sam –"

The younger brother stood up and walked to the window.

"Sam, you have to listen to me. She needs to talk to you, but you won't let her. You keep thinking about her on the ceiling and then --"

He turned to face Dean. "NO!"

"She wants you to know it's not your fault. She wants to tell you that herself."

Sam leaned against the wall. He knew what Dean was saying had to be true; Dean wouldn't lie to him and wouldn't pick a time when they were so exhausted to talk about it unless the conversation had really happened. He slid down to the floor, elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands. Dean waited for a moment before sitting on the floor near his brother.

"Dean?" Sam looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"The dreams I was having? Those were from Jess?"

"Part of them. She was just trying to talk to you."

"She's okay?" Sam couldn't hide the shaking in his voice or the tears that threatened to fall.

"She's fine, Sam." Dean whispered.

"And you're telling me about this now because –"

"I've talked to her twice, Sam. Last night she told me she wanted to try to communicate with you again and, well, I didn't want to let you go to sleep without talking to you."

Sam nodded. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"She's going to say goodbye, isn't she?"

"Yeah." Dean said quietly.

"I don't want her to."

"Sam –"

"But she'll leave even if she can't tell me goodbye, right?"

It had been a long time since Dean heard Sam sound so small and lost. He wanted to reach out to his brother, but resisted, not sure how he'd react. "Sam, I don't know what to tell you. She can't stay here forever; she's already been here too long. You have to let her go."

It broke Dean's heart to see the tears flow from his brother's closed eyes.

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"Yeah, I know. But, Sam." Dean hesitantly touched his brother's arm. "Sammy."

He opened his eyes.

"You can't stop what has to happen."

Sam didn't want to sleep, but he was too tired to do anything else. He had been so tempted to stay in the living room with Dean, but he had already asked so much of his brother. Besides, this was something he had to face on his own. Dean would be there later, and it was enough knowing that.

_Sam looked around the beach he was standing on and knew Jessica would be there soon. _

"_You look so sad." she smiled, walking up behind him._

"_Jess –"_

_She took his hand; he was surprised he could feel her touch._

"_Jessica, I'm so sorry."_

"_You didn't do anything to be sorry for."_

"_I should have warned you; I should have been there."_

_She shook her head. "No, Sam. You had no way of knowing those dreams were anything more than dreams. And if you had warned me, nothing would have changed. The demon was determined to kill me and would have done it, no matter what you tried to do."_

_Sam's eyes filled with tears._

"_But you beat it. You and Dean finished the job your father started. You saved other people and that's important to remember."_

"_But I didn't save you."_

_Jessica smiled sadly. "We would have had an incredible life together, but you have to go on without me."_

"_I don't have a choice, do I?"_

"_You always have a choice. You haven't let me go yet and it's been three years"_

_Sam stared at the water._

"_Please, Sam. Please let me go. Promise me that you'll stop feeling guilty for what happened because no matter what you did, the result would have been the same. Sooner or later, the demon would have won."_

"_All I can promise is that I'll try."_

"_I'll take that." Jessica said. She considered telling him about the premonitions returning and what was in store for him, but she decided against it. There was no sense in warning him about something he couldn't change, and she knew Dean would be there to help him. _

_They walked down the beach, holding hands. Jessica stopped in front of a lighthouse that Sam hadn't seen until now._

"_I have to go."_

"_I know." he turned to face her. "I love you, Jessica. I always will.'_

_Jessica looked into Sam's eyes. "I know you will. But not so much that you don't live your life, okay?"_

"_Okay." he whispered._

_Jessica wrapped her arms around him and Sam tentativelyleaned down to kiss her. They held each other for a moment longer, then Jessica slowly pulled away. He watched as she walked toward the lighthouse. _

"_I love you, Sam Winchester. Live well."_

"Jessica –" Sam woke up in his room, sunlight streaming in through the partially open window blinds. He could feel the dried tears on his face.

Sam stared out of the window for several moments before noticing Dean sleeping in a chair in the corner. Sam left the room and, as he did, Dean stirred.

"You okay?" Dean asked, joining Sam in the living room a few minutes later.

"Not really."

"Yeah, I know. But you will be."

Dean sat in the auditorium watching his brother walk across the stage to receive his diploma. Sam had become a full-time student and a part-time hunter, excelling at both and finding satisfaction in both. As Jessica had warned Dean, the premonitions did return. Painful at first, Sam learned not to fight and gradually the pain lessened.

With Dean's encouragement, he had made some friends and together, they were even establishing their own contacts to help with paranormal research. But most importantly, Sam no longer yearned for a normal life because, finally, he realized that whatever life he led was normal for him.

_Fini_


End file.
